Because our kids and their families live in different states, communicating with them isn’t simple. We aren’t big fans of Skype or Facetime. Dearly Beloved and I are scary. I’m all neck and he’s all nostrils.
None of us answers our landline phones, since we can’t say, “Please remove us from your call list” to the automated voices inevitably at the other end. “Not In Service” calls often. You may remember my all time favorite, Phone Scam.
For a time, e-mailing worked, but now the kids say their e-mail boxes are overflowing, so it’s become all about “Texting.” DB embraced that right away. He lets a picture take care of his thousand words: a video of the dog, a photo of his new banjo. A sneaky shot of a sweaty me in a bandana and overalls, working in the garden, gives them an update on mom. When his fingers do the talking, he’s a man of few words.
Last week he texted a query to our youngest daughter and as usual, received a prompt response. . . just not one he expected.
It was a text from her youngest, our soon-to-be-first-grader grandson:
Sorry she is not avalabel.